


When Mortals Get Caught In The Middle

by Apollo_Deserves_Happiness



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Apollo comforting Hyacinth, It does not happen between Apollo and Hyacinth, M/M, Rape/ Non-con discussed, This would not leave my head for months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollo_Deserves_Happiness/pseuds/Apollo_Deserves_Happiness
Summary: Hyacinth is running late to meet Apollo, and the God begins to worry.
Relationships: Apollo/Hyacinthus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143





	When Mortals Get Caught In The Middle

**Author's Note:**

> This deals with a non-consensual situation and the direct aftermath. If this is something that you do not wish to read about then please, click off of this story.

Apollo was starting to get anxious, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. He’s a God. He’s an Olympian, and Olympian God’s don’t get anxious, especially over mortals. But Apollo just couldn’t fight the mounting feeling of dread that was building up inside of him. Hyacinth was supposed to meet him over an hour ago, and the Spartin Prince was hardly ever late. And when he was, it was never more than fifteen minutes. 

The God paces around for a few more moments before getting frustrated and turning to leave. But something stops him. Something tells him that there is something is deeply wrong. It’s probably nothing, or so Apollo tries to tell himself. 

Still….

He sighs frustratedly. Hyacinth has probably just fallen asleep, and all of this worrying will have been for nothing. None the less, he sets out for his precious little mortal’s house. Well, palace is probably more accurate. It doesn’t take him very long to get there, and it’s all too easy for him to sneak into the Prince’s room unseen. 

Hyacinth is not sprawled across his bed in a peaceful nap as Apollo had expected him to be. In fact, Apollo can’t see him. Before the God can freak out more than he already is, he hears a soft noise coming from the far corner of the room. Apollo turns quickly, hand hovering in the air, ready to call his bow and arrow at a moment’s notice. 

In the corner, curled up as tightly as humanly possible in a little ball, is Hyacinth. His chiton is torn, barley even staying on at this point, and is that blood on the fabric’s edges? 

Apollo crosses the room in no more than a handful of steps and drops to his knees next to his lover. His hand reaches out and touches the mortal’s shoulder. Hyacinth flinches away violently, curling in on himself even tighter than before as a sob rips free from his throat. 

“Hyacinth? My love? What is wrong? What happened that has caused you this much pain?” Apollo asks a soft as possible, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice. His Spartin Prince is one of the strongest mortals he knows. For something to cause him this much pain, it must truly be bad. Hyacinth loos up, his eyes locking onto the God in front of him.

“A-Apollo.” His voice is guarded, but Apollo can hear the hopefulness behind it. The God nods once, and opens his mouth to speak. Before any words can escape, Hyacinth launches himself at his lover, clinging to him with all his might. He presses his face against Apollo’s chest, tears damping his clothing. 

Apollo wastes no time in picking the mortal up and cradling him in his arms. He moves them over to the large bed in the center of the room. The God sits against the headboard, holding his sobbing lover close to his chest. He rocks Hyacinth slowly, running a single hand through the messy mop of curls atop the mortal’s head.

“My love, please speak to me. Let me help you.” Hyacinth shakes his head furiously, hands tightening their grip on Apollo. 

“You’ll hate me.” The mortal’s voice is muffled against the God’s chest. Apollo’s arms tighten around him ever so slightly. 

“Look at me Hyacinth.” He waits for his lover to pull back and turn his face upwards. Apollo gently cups Hyacinth’s face, wiping tears away as they slip down the Spratin Prince’s face. “No matter what you tell me, I could never hate you. For me to hate, you would be the same as the sun hating the sky. One can not hate that which makes them whole.” 

Apollo means for the words to be comforting, but instead, they just seem to make Hyacinth sob harder. Apollo is overcome with worry at this point. He begins to gently ask again what is wrong, but is cut off by Hyacinth beginning to speak. 

“I- I was just finishing up with my preparations to come to meet you, when Lord Zephyrus appeared behind me.” Apollo tenses at hearing the wind God’s name comes from his lover’s mouth. Apollo knows all too well that the other God is jealous of the fact the Hyacinth is in love with Apollo and not him. Hyacinth continues with his story, not giving Apollo much time to stew on that thought. 

“I told him that he frightened me, and he apologized with a laugh. He was looking at me rather strangely, and honestly, it was making me a bit uncomfortable, s-so I asked what I could do for him. He told me that he just wanted to see me. I told him that he was very kind, but I had to hurry along because I had plans to meet with you. And- and suddenly, he kissed me.” Rage, unlike anything Apollo has ever felt bubbles up inside of him. How dare Zephyrus touch his lover? He’ll tear that small time, unimportant God apart with his bare hands. Hyacinth keeps speaking, and it seems like now that the flood gates are open, he could not stop, even if he wanted to.

“I tried to get away, but his hand was wrapped around my waist, and I couldn’t escape. When he finally let the kiss end, he told me that he wanted me. He asked if I wanted the honor of sleeping with him. I- I told him that I am entirely devoted to you, but he insisted, telling me that you would never know. I refused again, and that made him angry. He struck me across the face and dragged me to the bed and-” Hyacinth cut’s himself off, his hands coming up to cover his mouth as tears flow freely down his face. Painful sounding sobs rip their way free from his chest. Apollo presses a soft kiss against his forehead, trying to send calming energy to his lover. He doesn’t need to mortal to finish the sentence for him to know what happened. 

“He forced himself on me.” Hyacinth’s voice is barely louder than a whisper. “He told me that I should be thanking him for the honor. Thanking him for lowering himself to sleep with a mortal.” 

Apollo is shaking, his rage blinding him. If he thought he was angry before, he doesn’t have a word for what he feels now. His arms that have been so gently cradling his lover up until this point tighten. He doesn’t even notice until Hyacinth lets out a soft cry of pain. Apollo’s arms immediately loosen, almost pulling away entirely. 

“Are you angry with me? I promise I tried to stop him. I would never be unfaithful. I love you so much, Apollo. I fought him as hard as I could. I-” This time, Apollo cuts his lover off by pressing a finger gently to his lips. 

“My love, of course I am angry. I am beyond angry. But not at you. I could never be angry at you for this. I am enraged at Zephyrus. I am going to destroy every temple and every shrine devoted to him. I am going to bring a plague unto each and every one of his followers. I will start a war on Olympus and make him beg for mercy. He will regret ever laying a finger on you.” You might expect Apollo’s anger to run hot, like the sun. But it doesn’t. It flows like ice through his veins. 

“I’m not worth all of that.” The God is dragged from his furry by the quiet, timid, almost broken voice of Hyacinth. Apollo internally smacks himself. He’s been so caught up in his own fear and anger that he forgot what really mattered in this moment. 

Hyacinth. 

“You are worth all of that and so much more. All you have to do is say the word, and I will burn him until he is nothing.” It’s almost weird for Hyacinth to hear something so dark and threatening said so tenderly and sweetly. 

“Would you… Would you just hold me? Please?” How on Earth could Apollo ever deny him something like that? The God reposition himself fo he is in a reclining position, and pulls Hyacinth on top of him, the mortals head resting on Apollo’s chest. 

Directly over his beating heart.

Apollo starts singing softly, singing a song about love and devotion. He feels his lover slowly, ever so slowly, begin to relax and eventually drift off to sleep, exhausted from everything that had happened that day. 

Apollo will go after Zephyrus some other time. Right now, he’s being used as Hyacinth’s body pillow, one that will chase away all the nightmares that he knows will come. 

He won’t let his lover down. 


End file.
